Day 0448

Ingested so much fiction, been so solitary for so long, my head is full of dreams. Tired. The painting is doing me in.

Dumas has unlocked the treasure of my childhood imagination, untouched for many years, tarnished. Very nice to give in to an onward rush of adventure.

Loving Balzac; so richly textured and self-possessed, a marvellous contrast to the icy precision of Turgenev.